


Thundering Waves

by Baby_Fangirl



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 12:46:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baby_Fangirl/pseuds/Baby_Fangirl
Summary: Suddenly I knew that you'd have to go,My world was not yours, your eyes told me so.Yet it was there I felt the crossroads of time,And I wondered why.





	Thundering Waves

**Author's Note:**

> This is another small drabble that happened on the bus.

It was easy to stand awfully still, pretend that the biting chill carried on a thin breeze didn't make Olivia Caliban shiver and want to wrap her arms across her chest in a futile attempt to desperately cling to what remaining warmth was left.

And already her fingertips felt numb, gradually turning red with the cold that came from lingering on the shore of Briny beach for far too long, overlooking the sea. And yet it was far too easy to remain still.

The waves were so dark that the common anecdote of something being 'ocean blue' now seemed inappropriate. Waves of ink now kissed the pebbles at her feet with each stroke of the tide before its bitter departure, leaving foam to dissipate on the rocks seconds later when the water came back.

Like all good things in life, they come, and they go far too quickly that it seems impossible to cling to it; and it's not fair. But nobody needed to remind the former Librarian of Prufrock Preparatory that Life isn't fair. After all, she'd spent days listening to the chant of _Memento Mori_ , to know that everything has an end.

The black marble sea stretched for miles, until the murky waters touched a dark horizon that blended into a dull, thick woven grey cloud which blanketed the vast expanse of miserable sky. Sky that was usually as pure as a white canvas had been blemished by a heavy fleecy of dark cotton weaving far above the rooftops in the city, forbidding the sun of its right to shine.

The bleakness felt eternal as the clouds cast a forlorn shadow over Briny beach.

By this time, the redheads hands were so insensitive with the cold that it took her a second to realise when somebody had slipped their own hand into hers.

 

A hand that fit, perfect, fingers that entwined instinctively, and Olivia tore her gaze from the still sea, cinnamon coloured eyes drifted to Jacquelyn.

Her eyes were the colour that the sea should have been, mesmerizing blue. They were so captivating and like the sea, they were so full of life yet so uncertain; blue and green combined that could change from serene peace to wild roars in a single second. And before Olivia could breathe, she was already drowning in her eyes.

"Your hand is cold," Jacquelyn was the first to break the silence, as her rouged lips pursed together. Her gaze fixed on nothing in particular in the distance, almost squinting to look for something she couldn't see.

And Caliban softly tightened her grip on the womans hand.

"I know," Olivia returned in a soft whisper, the hint of a smile glazed her lips; a small wisp that vanished almost as soon as it had arrived.

It had been three months since she had left the Village of Fowl Devotees alone in a borrowed Taxi, and two days after that, she had crashed on Jacquelyn's couch after the memorial, and she had withdrawn from the field of V.F.D.

It felt too weird to be volunteering without the guidance she had come to appreciate, and for the first couple of days, her mourning had made Liv exhausted and sick. Jacquelyn had cared for her; kissed her neck and embraced the librarian securely until she fell asleep, and read to her from her favourite classics. As weeks passed, Olivia had grown to adore the woman, and her worries from the V.F.D and Jacques' death had been pushed to the near back of her mind.

Jacquelyn Scieszka had spent nights in the redheads arms, and had woken to a tray of tea more than once; and Olivia had grown used to the way the petite blonde would wrap her arms around her whilst she made breakfast. She had gotten used to the way the secretary would often kiss her out of the blue, and the way they would walk, hand in hand, together.

And now, Olivia was ready to go back into the field.

Several minutes of quiet stillness had passed, as the salty breeze caressed their hair with soothing strokes. So still that it was easier to feel the rest of the world pass by. "You don't have to go," Jacquelyn figured, taking the librarians hand in both her own, turning away from the flowing tide.

"You don't," the blonde continued hastily, reaching with one hand to direct Liv's face back to her, "You could stay with me. You know I'm not selfish, but I need you to stay, I need you," she trailed off with a broken sigh.

A delicate hand brushed against Jacquelyn's cheek, catching the tears that had not yet fallen. "You're not the only one who needs me Jacq, ...three innocent children need me, you know I've always loved them... as much as I love you,"

She hated how this conversation sounded final, it was a couple of weeks, nothing more, and yet they were acting like it was a couple of years.

And she did love Jacquelyn, with all her heart.

"Brian Yorkey... If then, ' _You're the reason I think this life might not be meaningless. You're my North Star, my map to grace. You're my single best decision, in a life of many awful ones. My one big "Yes", my one embrace. With you I never feel I'm out of place.'_ It's my favourite quote from his work," the shorter woman spoke softly, nudging gently into Olivia's open hand.

The redhead took both her hands again, and sweetly pulled her down to the sand, sitting cross-legged with a smile on her lips. "Imagine. Just imagine the smiles on their faces when they're back in safe arms. Imagine not having to be scared, or worried. Imagine when it's all over, the Quagmire triplets and the Baudelaire's are happy, and Olaf has been captured, and we can live every day like we did... but that's never going to happen until we do something about it... until _I_ do something about it."

As Jacquelyn rest her head upon the librarians' shoulder, Liv pressed a reassuring kiss to her temple as two sets of eyes returned to the black waves. Deep down, the blonde knew she was right, and it wasn't forever.

But she still knew that for those weeks it would be impossible to relax; jumping to receive every phone call that Larry sends her way; staying up in bed glancing at the side that Olivia had claimed, staring at the small stack of books by the bedside that would stay untouched.

"When do you go?" the words had crossed red lips before Jacquelyn had realized that she'd spoken. Her pointed shoes had been kicked off and she was stroking the sand with her toes as her hand rest on the redhead's thigh, revelling in the way that it brought a small shiver from the librarian. And she refused to believe it was a response to the cold.

"Tomorrow," Liv whispered, sweetly tugging the blonde so that Jacquelyn's head rest in her lap and her lithe digits combed through honeycomb curls. She had no idea how she might cope, but every day is another day to learn.

In three months they hadn't spent an entire day apart, "I'll miss you," Olivia candidly confided, the whisper almost getting lost on the breeze.

"I love you Olivia Caliban. So don't you dare come home with a scratch," Jacquelyn ordered sternly. But Olivia knew that voice was used when she was trying so hard not to cry.

"I promise, I'll be home before you know it," it didn't matter where, home turned out to be Jacquelyn, and she wondered if the blonde knew that too.

 

Once again, it was all still. And Stillness was a blessing in a world that never stops; dragging them deeper into the tranquillity of that one, quiet moment. It was peaceful, and lovely, and even if it was dark and dull, it was beautiful; a complete contrast to the chaos and the calamity of the world outside of their own. The Baudelaire's lives were such example.

Unexplainable trepidation plagued Olivia, even as she soothed Jacquelyn, telling her it was all to be alright. But she was no fortune teller, seeing the future wasn't in her cards, and hopeful guesses were all that she really had to offer.

It was silent aside from the wind that rang in her ears, and the black waves that washed the stones.

And as the redhead bent to press another loving kiss to Jacquelyn's head, she made a silent promise, that nothing would stop her from coming home to the woman.

Coming home,

from Caligari Carnival.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and Summary are from 'The old Ways' by Loreena Mckennitt.


End file.
